Mount the Worlds
by KnoxAingeal
Summary: On that fateful Halloween night Harry Potter died, and on an alternate plane his soul breathed life into another prophesized child. Rhageo, Son of Drogo of House Targaryen. Armed with magic and Dothraki training how will the Wizarding World handle this new Boy-Who-Lived thrust into their lives in the Middle of the Triwizard Tournament? Dothraki!Harry


_Dothraki - " Hello Mr. Potter"_

**Valarian - " Hello Mr. Potter"**

_**Parseltounge - "Hello Mr. Potter"**_

Mount the Worlds- Ch.1 Blood of Fire, Son of Stallions

* * *

Godric's Hollow - Europe:

When Dumbledore arrived at the silent home of the Potter family within Godric's Hollow, he had expected to find the child of the Prophesy lying in the rumble his former bedroom, but Harry Potter, the new hope of the Wizarding World was dead.

The old headmaster didn't linger for too long after that, leaving the bodies of the fallen Potter family till Remus or Sirius came by to collect them for a funeral. He had other matters to attend to.

The aged wizard sighed to himself, 'At least Voldemort is vanquished, gone for now, but I'll have to return to the Longbottom home. Young Neville must be the child of the Prophesy.'

Vaas Dothrak - Essos:

In an alternate plane, in the desert grasslands of Essos the wails of the newborn Khal of Khals could be heard across the city of Vaas Dothrak. Drogo decided firmly after the eating of the horse heart that in the nine moons that it took his son to grow, his khalasar would return to the sacred city for his boy's birth.

Rhaego's cries were now silent as he suckled upon his mother's breast. Daenarys smiled down at her new born son and looked up to Drogo who'd just entered the tent, much against the protest of his Khaleesi's hand maidens.

'Fuck, she's so beautiful.'

He sat down on the furs next to his wife, waiting patiently to hold his son.

"He is very small to be called the Khal of Khals."

Daenarys smiled at her husband, she was very tired from the evening of labor but was ecstatic none the less. This was her son. Her son that grew inside her for many months and her son that would be the Khal of Khals who would later claim the Iron Throne.

When Rhageo had his fill, Daenarys handed him over to her husband. He smiled at his boy but his brow furrowed when he noticed the oddly shaped birthmark on the babes forehead.

A small lightning bolt.

He ran his thumb over the child's forehead whispering softly to him.

_"Rhaego, Son of Drogo, you will be the Khal of Khals and will be the Great Stallion who will mount the world."_

His only answers was the baby's bright green eyes staring back at him.

* * *

Fourth Year had rolled around for Neville Longbottom and his friends in Gryffindor and the entire hall was bustling with excitement with the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament and the arrival of the foreign students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Dumbledore had announced the rules of the cup and had introduced Barty Crouch, a minister official, who explained the age limit of the tournament.

"What?!" A sixth year Ravenclaw protested.

"That's rubbish!" One of the Weasley twins yelled.

Many students of Hogwarts continued to yell before the headmaster silenced them.

After the introductions to both of the foreign students and their headmasters, dinner was served and the students began to tuck in.

The most popular topic of conversation was the tournament of course.

"You just wait mates," Fred Weasley spoke.

"Yea, we'll find a way to get around that pesky age line." George boasted.

Hermione rolled her eyes and chatted animatedly with Neville about Herbology, both a subject that they enjoyed, but she knew it was Neville's passion throughout his four years of being at Hogwarts.

"Yea! Professor Sprout mentioned to me about an apprenticeship for next year if I earn a better ranking in Potions this year."

"Neville that's great! Oh an apprenticeship, how exciting!"

"Yea but how are you going to manage to even score and E in potions mate? Professor Snape hates you!" Ron commented.

"I blow up a cauldron my first year and that man hasn't let it go since!" Neville pouted.

The surrounding Gryffindors chuckled and ate merrily amongst themselves.

The students, now all full, rose to leave to return to their respective dormitories. They left with only the sight of the blue glow of the Goblet of Fire.

The young men of Drumstrang followed the Slytherin students into the dungeon silently while the ladies of Beauxbatons trailed behind the Ravenclaw students, whispering amongst themselves.

The Gryffindor students were quite hyped up with the news as they all walked back to their respective tower. Neville was happy to chat about the tournament with his friends.

"I think I should be in the tournament, I'd kick everyone's arse!" Ron exclaimed puffing out his chest.

Dead and Seamus laughed beside them.

"Yea right Ronald, you heard what Dumbledore said about the age line."

"Plus, any of those Durmstrang blokes could easily transfigure you into a mop and wipe the floor with you."

The group laughed. Ron deflated a bit but perked back up when his twin brothers swept up behind the trio talking about one of their fool proof devious plans.

"The age line won't be an issue for our perfect and ingenious plan."

"Yea mates, we got a way to slip right through that pesky age line, no sweat."

Hermione was skeptical but Neville and Ron smiled at the twins antics.

The Gryffindor group spread themselves thin when entering their dormitory, many of the students preparing for classes the next morning.

It was about two hours later when Neville and his year mates settled into their beds for a good night's rest.

"Just think about it Nev, eternal glory and fame, I mean, you already have it since that bloke Potter died leaving you to battle You-Know-Who if he returns, but come on. Just imagine. Eternal glory and fame!"

Neville chuckled lightly attempting to shake of the uneasiness that lingered during conversations like this.

Yea, he was expected to kill the Dark Lord. Since Harry Potter died, it was explained to him that if Voldemort ever returned that it was up to him to kill the menace. Why him? He didn't know, but he was no fighter, not a killer, not a warrior or a champion. How could he ever defend the whole populace of the Wizarding World form the forces of evil?

It was these thoughts that drifted him into a restless sleep.

* * *

The sun was setting on the circle of boys who wrestled in the dirt. Their makeshift fighting ring was in the center of the settled khalasar and the boys from ages fourteen to sixteen spent their time competing amongst one another to pass the time while the khalasar remained stationary. Many boys in their teens are sent on hunting trips and raiding parties with the older riders, though, not as often due to their lack of experience.

"Come on Borko, just give up already, no young rider has yet to beat Rhaego!"

The two boys tumbled in the dirt, Borko struggling to keep a hold on Rhaego. With a pivot of the hips and a swing of his left leg, Rhaego was able to get the older boy in a submissive hold.

"_Ahh! Ok, ok Rhaego! Don't break my arm."_

Rhaego released the other teen and stood smiling, _"I won't break your arm Borko and you're lucky I won't cut your braid."_

"_Yea yea_," Borko replied pouting and he dusted himself off and stood.

_"Just be happy he didn't use that magick gift he was blessed with from the Great Stallion."_ one of the teens in the group teased as two more boys jumped into the center to wrestle.

Borko and Rhaego walked away from the group of scuffling boys Borko shoving Rhaego as a teasing gesture. They settled for a seat on the edge of the khalasar's camp to chat away from wandering ears.

_"I'm glad you don't use those gifts in our scuffles Rhaego, but by the Great Stallion you better use them in battle as often as you can."_

Rhaego chuckled pulling out his dagger and a whetstone to sharpen it, Borko doing the same.

_"You know the Khal has already taken me out on raids and I've already taken down a handful of men who've challenged me."_

Borko looked to the sky_, "Yea Rhaego you don't have to remind me."_

_, "I'm just relieved that the khalasar didn't brand me as evil and throw me to the vultures as a babe."_

_"Your she-dragon of a mother wouldn't have let anyone even near you if that was the case."_ A deep voice spoke behind the two boys.

Borko and Rhaego stood immediately, both saluting the Khal.

Drogo smirked and ruffled Rhaego's hair, a rare moment of affection, only showing such a gesture when on the edge of the settlement.

_"Well met __Ave__, I was just talking with Borko over yesterday's raid."_

Drogo chuckled, _"Your sly tongue cannot fool me little Khal, you mean you were puffing your chest and trying to fuel your pride."_

Rhaego didn't comment, knowing that he was guilty of such. Drogo and Borko just laughed at his silence.

Borko stood, putting his knife away and the two young men said goodbyes. Borko bowed to both Rhaego and Khal Drogo before he left.

The two then turned heading back to the Khal's and Khaleesi's tent.

_"Rhaego, eventually, you'll have to stop with the games of children."_ Drogo chastised.

_"I know, Ave, you know I'm not like that in battle, I just, I hate to leave the other's behind in my duties."_ Rhaego was ruthless in battle like his father,to those outside the khalasar, and sometimes even in it, but the coming title of Khal of Khals worried him. Could he hold up to such a feat? A Khal was strong and undefeated; how could he accomplish such a thing?

_"I know Rhaego, sleep on it little dragon. Tomorrow we'll work on the blade together yes?"_

Rhaego smiled, appreciating the idea. He bid goodnight to his father, stopping to go into the Khal's tent to speak with his mother. He also wanted to visit his four brothers, three being the dragons, the other his young sibling, born about six years ago. The dragons that had hatched around the same time and were now the size of a large stallion. The three were forced to sleep on the outside of the tent but they never strayed far from their mother or from him.

He'd inherited the blood of the dragon from his mother and Borko tells him that Rhaego will be the first Dothraki warrior to ride into battle upon a dragon. He will lead his people from Essos across the sea that horses cannot drink, to where the Iron Throne sits and he will win it through fire and blood.

Drogo had already built his Khalasar to greater than any Khal before him. Many of the other Khals across the grasslands had heard of the fearsome khalasar of Khal Drogo and the infamous Fire Khaleesi. They had heard of the birth of the Khal of Khals and many kneeled before Drogo to join the Dragon Khalasar. They knew of the tales of the budding Rhaego and the three dragons who stood loyally by him.

The dragons perked up from where they lay by the bonfire they circled around, happy to see their brother in blood.

Rhaego smiled at their enthusiasm but motioned them to stay. He was only here to bid his mother goodnight then head to his tent for rest.

His mother and little brother sat cross legged on a leather that was laid out in the center of the tent. She watched fondly as the young boy played with a grass horse that was made by one of the khalasar's women.

Daenarys smiled as her eldest son walked into the tent.

"_You are too young for a scowl like that to mar your face, my son."_

Rhaego sighed.

"_I know Mai."_

The young rider sat on the ground with his mother and younger sibling.

"_I feel worry about becoming the Khal of Khals. Many of the boys and even men of the khalasar expect much of me, and I know I have yet to lose a fight or have my braid cut, but I feel like I might pull it out myself in frustration."_

His mother smiled warmly to him.

"_You think on these things too often my son. You have the blood of a dragon and are the first son of Khal Drogo. You are young. For now, your only responsibility is becoming a good rider for the khalasar. You are far too small to be a Khal right now."_

Rhaego's lips perked up at his mother's attempt to cheer him up.

"It is known." He replied, finally smiling.

The two laughed together. It was a few moments later when Rhaego rose to leave, feeling better with himself.

"Goodnight _Mai_, I promise to make you proud as a Dothraki rider and as a Targaryen. Men will fall before my sword and I will take what is mine with fire and blood." He spoke in the common tongue, his accent heavy.

"Goodnight _rizh anni_."

Daenarys picked up her youngest child preparing him for sleep.

"I have no doubt you will."

* * *

Many student at Hogwarts had put their name into the Goblet hoping at a chance to prove themselves and get their opportunity at eternal glory. Two weeks had passed since the Goblet had been presented to the students and it was time for the champions to be announced.

Once the students of the three schools had settled in their seats, Headmaster Dumbledore moved towards the Goblet to announce the names chosen.

He moved his hand to dim the firelight that lined the hall. He always liked a touch of drama.

The Goblet's fire sprung to life, its blue flames bursting upwards releasing the name of the first champion. Dumbledore waited for the paper to fall back down into his grasp. He turned the small piece of decorative parchment in his hands.

"The champion of Beauxbatons is. . . Fluer Delacour!"

The hall broke out in applause for the young woman as she rose and approached the front of the hall to move towards the trophy room where she would wait for the other champions.

"The champion of Durmstrang is. . . Viktor Krum!"

The applause for the young athlete was especially loud by the cheer of his peers. He too followed suit and walked to the trophy room. The hall grew quiet waiting for the announcement of the Hogwarts champion. The Goblet flashed brighter than the first two when a small scrap of paper burst forth, falling back down to Dumbledore's reach.

"Neville Longbottom."

No one moved.

"Neville Longbottom!"

Hermione bickered with Neville for a short moment before pushing him to stand. He slowly walked to the headmaster, a look of utter confusion and fear on his face.

Dumbledore was about to dismiss the students to their dorms when the Goblet flashed once more. This time its flames turned bright white. A piece of paper flew from the raging mass of fire before the Goblet tipped over, falling off the podium, unable to take the amount of magical energy spewing from it.

Dumbledore caught the paper, reading it softly.

"Harry Potter?"

Gasps echoed throughout the hall, first Neville as a champion and now the long dead Harry Potter? What did this mean for the tournament?

The fire rose, forming an orb of pure white fire, bits of molten magic falling from the orb as it moved a bit away from where the Headmaster stood.

And a young man fell from the mass of flame, unceremoniously to the stone floor.

He looked like a wild animal to the wizards and witches before him. His tan skin contrasted against his long dark hair that stretched beyond his shoulder blades but not quite reaching his waist. It was braided to maintain some sort of neatness. He stood looking at his surroundings. His hand gripped the knife on his waist tightly.

He wore leather pants and boots along with a handful of furs and three belts that covered his hips. His midsection was wrapped in a leather piece that held his knives.

What was most striking about the young man were his bright green eyes which were surrounded in black charcoal which made his already strong physique all the more intimidating.

Dumbledore held his wand near the young man, weary of his sudden appearance.

"Who are you?"

The young man turned. Dumbledore could see old scars on the boy's body and savage blue lines of war paint that covered his shoulders and neck.

"I am Rhaego, Son of Drogo and heir to the house Targaryen. Who are you?"

"Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore."

Rhaego looked around, weary of his new surroundings, he had blacked out in the middle of a small raid to a village east of where the khalasar had made camp.

This new place didn't look like the grasslands he had known.

"Where is this _Hogaiwarts_ place?" he struggled with the new word on his tongue.

"Scotland."

"How far is that from Vaes Dothrak in the land Essos?"

Dumbledore's brow furrowed, he had never heard of such a place.

"Essos, my boy, I've never heard of such a place."

Rhaego's eyes widened for a moment.

Where was he?


End file.
